Honour Sworn
by andirlay
Summary: Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn, To keep evil forever at bay! And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout, Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!
1. 0

Cerise didn't know how old she was. She didn't know anything besides her name. Several years ago, she woke up on the side of the road, hungry, cold, confused and with no memories but that of her name. She didn't know where she was, how she got there or why she was there at all.

With nothing to lose, she picked herself up and began walking down the road, eventually finding her way to a town called Riften. She survived there for weeks by pickpocketing gold, stealing small bits of food and finding the warmest place to curl up during the nights. Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched and was approached later by a man named Brynjolf. He has her do some quick thieving work in exchange for some coin, and just like that he asks if she wants to join his guild. A guild of thieves.

And hey, she thinks to herself, being a part of a group of people that were just like her, wouldn't judge her for her actions and would help her make some coin along the way? That's not such a bad idea. If it provides a warm place to sleep and to live, those are just bonuses along the way.

For a few years, Cerise goes on as a thief. She takes jobs, steals things, earns herself some decent coin and eventually, it's enough for her to buy the house that's up for sale in Whiterun. Not a bad idea, considering having someone in another city is good for the guild. And it gives her a chance to adopt some children, just like she's always wanted to. She's made a good life for herself, and wouldn't trade it in for anything. Her worry over her missing past is a distant memory, almost as forgotten as her past itself.

Only, that's where the trouble begins. The job wasn't anything she hadn't done a million times before. Sneak in, take the item, sneak back out. Cash it in at the Ragged Flagon and go home to her kids. But the camp is ambushed and Cerise is arrested along with the others there, the Imperials believing her to be a Stormcloak like the others she captured, despite not wearing their armour.

She's two seconds from getting her head cut off and never seeing her family again when a goddamned dragon swoops in a saves her life by attacking the town of Helgen. Oh, and one last plot twist? Turns out Cerise is something called Dragonborn and that dragon that saved her life is actually her archenemy.


	2. I

There was always a time and a place to do just about everything. From when to announce to your best friend and traveling companion that you wanted to adopt the young orphan girl that lived in the city of Whiterun to telling the bandit leader that just captured you what you were really there to do, almost everything in life had a time and place in which it was appropriate to be mentioned.

Unfortunately, despite how neverendingly beautiful the province of Skyrim was, the time to admire it was not after you were wrongly arrested with a group of Stormcloak rebels, bound, and put in the wagon that was taking them all to be executed.

Though, there was the fact that she couldn't remember getting into the carriage or much past arriving at the Stormcloak camp where the item she'd been told to steal was. The pain in the back of her head told her that she'd been seen and hit over the head, rendering her unconscious.

That was where Cerise currently found herself. She had been stripped of her armour and given rags to wear instead, when the man sitting at the other end of her side of the wagon was still dressed in fine clothes. It was fair to say that just a tiny bit of anger boiled in her stomach at that.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there," the blond man sat across from her said, nodding at the brunet man sat next to him.

"I'm a thief," Cerise said.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," the brunet said, "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You there. You and me — we should be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"You're a horse thief?" Cerise asked, raising her brow, "that's not what I meant when I said that I'm a thief. I steal more important things than horses."

"You boast about being a thief as if it was as honourable as being a Companion," the blond across from her said.

Cerise shrugged. "I'm not that great of a fighter, not really built for it. Got to make a living somehow and it just so happens, I have pretty sticky fingers."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," he replied.

One of the two guards at the front of the wagon snapped at them, "shut up back there!"

The brunet looked at the gagged man in fine clothes. "And what's wrong with him?"

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King," the brunet snapped.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh, gods, where are they taking us?" the brunet said, panic creeping into his voice and expression.

"I don't know where we're going," the blond said, "but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening," the brunet muttered to himself.

"Hey," the blond said, "what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" the brunet snapped back.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," the blond explained simply.

"Rorikstead," the brunet said eventually, "I'm… I'm from Rorikstead."

"You guys probably haven't heard of my village, but you can bet I'm thinking of it now," Cerise said. There was a pause as the two men gave her curious looks. Not far up the road ahead of them, she could see the gates of the village they would be making their final stop at. "Not that it'll matter for much longer, but I'm Cerise."

"Ralof," the blond said.

"Lokir," the brunet said.

"Despite the circumstances, it wasn't terrible meeting you," Cerise offered them with a shrug.

As they entered through the gates, a soldier called out to the lead wagon, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good," General Tullius replied, "let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," Lokir began muttering to himself as their wagon continued through the village.

As their wagon went around a bend, the four occupants of the wagon caught sight of General Tullius (or who Cerise assumed to be General Tullius). He was dressed in his full Imperial armour, a fact that didn't quite surprise Cerise.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this," Ralof sneered.

"Hey!" Cerise protested.

"Sorry, I meant no offense to you," Ralof apologized.

"Well I took offense," Cerise mumbled.

"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in…" Ralof's voice trailed off as he seemed to get lost in thought. A break in the houses lining the outside of the village gave them a view of the wall surrounding the village and one of the guard towers. "Funny… when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

Cerise didn't quite know what to say to that. The civil war that was plaguing Skyrim had never quite impacted her in any way. As a native of Valenwood, she didn't know of the whispers of possible rebellion long before the death of the High King. She'd barely been in Skyrim for a few months before she heard the news spreading like wildfire.

Maybe the Stormcloaks were right, whatever their beliefs were, or maybe they were wrong for opposing the Empire. Cerise had never cared, as long as it didn't get in the way of her thieving.

The wagon came to a halt, pulling up next to the one that had been in front of them during their journey. Lokir seemed to panic, wondering why the wagon had stopped, but over his shoulder, she could see the chopping block.

"Why are they stopping?" Lokir asked.

"Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us," Ralof said.

"No!" Lokir protested, "wait! We're not rebels!

"Face your death with some courage, thief," Ralof told him.

Under the Imperials' watchful eye, the prisoners start jumping out of their wagons and gathering together to await their fate.

"You've got to tell them!" Lokir continued, "we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

"Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the Imperial Captain called out.

"Empire loves their damn lists," Ralof snarled.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," an Imperial Soldier called out.

"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof called to him.

"Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead," the same Imperial Soldier called.

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir protested. He made a break for it, running, despite his bound hands, down the path and away from the rebels and the soldiers.

"Halt!" the Captain called to him.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir yelled.

"Archers!" the Captain commanded.

A flurry of arrows head in Lokir's direction, and he is eventually downed with one arrow straight through his back.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the Captain asked the rest of the rebels.

No one responded, nor stepped forward, so they took that as a sign that Lokir was the only one who was going to try and escape their fate. Not that anyone would try, the Imperials had made a pretty good example out of the horse thief.

"Wait, you there," the Imperial Soldier called, pointing to Cerise, "step forward. Who are you?"

"I, uh, I'm Cerise," she told him hesitantly.

"Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim," he said, turning to the Captain, "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."

"Forget the list. She goes to the block."


	3. II

"Forget the list. She goes to the block."

"By your orders, captain," the Soldier said.

Cerise couldn't help but gulp. Did she deserve this, after all she'd done in her life? The stolen items, the forged books, the pockets picked, the items planted on innocent victims that got them arrested? Sure, sometimes those people deserved it, and just couldn't be arrested without intervention, and she'd taken in a little orphan girl to her home, but did that make-up for all the wrongs she'd committed?

"I'm sorry," the soldier said, "we'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood. Follow the Captain, prisoner."

Cerise turned towards the other prisoners by the block, standing with her hands bound in front of her, a sick feeling in her stomach and an emptiness in her mind. Up until that point, the blonde hadn't considered what going to the execution block meant. It was one of those things that's surface meaning was made apparent, but it's deeper meaning didn't settle in right away.

General Tullius approached the gagged Ulfric. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric made a grunting protest, clearing wanting to argue with the Imperial General, but he was held back by the gag that had been placed on him upon capture.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace," General Tullius said confidently.

A distant noise rings down the mountainside, causing everyone in Helgen to turn their eyes and ears to the mountains, wondering what could have made that noise

"What was that?" the Soldier with the list asked.

"It's nothing," General Tullius said, "carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites," the Captain said to a priestess.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved–"

One of the prisoners from the lead wagon walked forward, "for the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."

"As you wish…" the priestess said.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" a Stormcloak soldier taunted, continuing forward,

They move the soldier into the correct position on the block and the executioner steps forward. He swings his axe down on the soldier and beheads the Stormcloak, eliciting responses from the onlookers.

"You Imperial bastards!" another of the Stormcloak soldiers yelled.

"Justice!" an onlooker called.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" another one yelled.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof said.

"Next, the wood elf!" the Captain called and Cerise's heart stopped in her chest.

Before she could step forward, another cry rang out on the mountainside, this time much closer. It shook Cerise to her very bones, and it was still far off. What would it feel like when it was close to her?

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" the Soldier with the list asked.

"I said, next prisoner!" the Captain yelled.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," the Soldier said.

Cerise steps forward enough to for the Imperial Soldiers to grab her. They brought her to the chopping block, pushing her down to her knees, and her head onto the block. Cerise could barely breathe. This was the end, and she would never get to see her friends, her daughter, ever again. She would never see her Guild again or get to see her homeland once more.

A large creature swooped over the southern peaks, barreling toward Helgen. Cerise could barely see it but for the general mass of it, and it's dark colour. Whatever it was, it wasn't good and filled her stomach with dread.

"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius asked.

"Sentries!" the Captain called, "what do you see?"

"It's in the clouds!" a soldier called back.

The creature dipped out of the clouds, and revealed what it was as it quickly descended upon Helgen. It landed on a tower, right in front of the execution block, and caused Cerise's eyes to go wide. It was easy to say that it was surprising to everyone.

"Dragon!" a Stormcloak soldier yelled.

The dragon let out a mighty roar that resonated through Cerise's entire body, throwing her away from the execution block and making her dizzy. The sky seemed to open up in answer to this roar, meteors streaking down through the sky in the direction of the village. One came down right near Cerise, killing the headsman.

"Don't just stand there, kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!" Tullius ordered.

"Hey, wood elf!" Ralof hissed at her, "get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance! This way!"

Ralof lead Cerise around screaming townspeople, terrified prisoners and armed guards in the direction of a tower. They quickly ducked inside and closed the door behind them where Cerise found other prisoners to be hiding.

"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof said, turning to the man, "what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move, now!" Ulfric commanded.

"Up through the tower. Let's go! This way, friend! Move!" Ralof pushed Cerise in front of him as he moved in the direction of the stairs that lead to the upper levels of the door.

"Why do I have to go first?" she protested.

Ralof didn't answer. Just as they were nearing the first landing, the dragon broke in through the wall, blasting fire everywhere.

"Get back!" Ralof shouted, pulling at Cerise's arm.

"Toor shul!"

The dragon left, drawn out by some other prey or danger, but gone. Surveying the damage, Cerise concluded that there was no way they would be able to get up the tower the rest of the way to wherever they were headed.

"Can't get up," Cerise said to Ralof, "now what?"

"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof asked her, pointing through the hole in the wall left by the dragon.

"Of course I see it," Cerise answered.

"Jump through the roof and keep going!" he told her.

"What?" she protested, "you can't be serious!"

"Go!" he urged her again, "we'll follow you when we can!"

Cerise cursed but steadied herself before the opening, then pushed off from the edge, jumping towards the inn. She landed on the straw roof, her body rolling till it fell through a hole and she crashed down to the floor. The blonde groaned in pain before she somehow managed pushed herself up with her hands still bound.

"Damn you, Ralof," she cursed.

Carefully, she dropped down through a hole in the second floor and saw that there was another hole in the exterior wall of the little house she was in. She ran through it and came upon a scene that made her heart just about stop in her chest.

There was the man who'd had the list, she didn't know his name, but he was standing with his sword drawn, urging a young boy to come over to him as the dragon landed behind the boy.

"Haming, you need to get over here now! Thataboy. You're doing great! Torolf! Gods… everyone get back!"

Once more, the dragon breathed out a burst of fire, setting the wreckage of a small house on fire as everyone ducked around it.

"Still alive, prisoner?" the soldier with the list asked her.

"Yeah, I'm still kicking," she told him.

"Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," he told her.

"You seem confident that you have better survival skills than me, soldier," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He ignored her. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defence."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar."

The man and the boy ducked away and Cerise turned to the man with a smirk on her face. "Hadvar, eh? Not a bad name."

"Watch your tongue, prisoner, now is not the time for witty quips," he said as he gestured for her to follow him.

"I disagree, I think it's always the time for a witty quip. Brings down the tension," Cerise said.

"Nothing you could say could bring down the tension in this situation," he said to her as they entered a little alley between the outside wall of the village and what looked like the barracks. "Stay close to the wall!"

Cerise flattened herself against the wall as a giant black wing appeared in front of her, the claw on the tip of it inches from her body. The dragon perched right above, on the roof of the barracks.

"Vol toor shul!"

"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar instructed and they booked it away from the barracks, leaving the dragon behind them for now.

They reach the main gate in a few moments, only to find carnage. Soldiers were firing arrows at the dragon in vain. Didn't they know anything? What good would an arrow be against a dragon? Hadn't they heard the stories?

"Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" Tullius instructed.

"It's you and me, prisoner, stay close!" Hadvar said.

Hadvar lead her in the direction of the keep, one of the only buildings that didn't look to currently be on fire. That was lucky. As they approached the building, Ralof and some of the other prisoners appeared.

"Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way!" Hadvar instructed.

"We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time," Ralof countered.

For a moment, Hadvar was silent. "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

"You, come on! Into the keep!" Ralof called to Cerise as he headed towards a door.

"With me, prisoner! Let's go! Come on! We need to get inside!" Hadvar called to Cerise as he headed to a different door.

"You've got to be kidding me," Cerise said, her eyes going back and forth between the two men. She sighed, "sorry, Ralof, hope you make it out of here!" she called to him as she took off after Hadvar and ducked inside the keep.

Inside, it was finally quiet. Cerise felt like she could breathe again and that everything going on outside was put on pause. She wanted to slump over in one of the chairs, but knew that if she sat down now, she would never want to get up again.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," Hadvar said, scanning the empty room.

"Yeah," she agreed, "looks like."


	4. III

"Was that really a dragon?" Hadvar questioned as they stood in silence, "the bringers of the End Times?"

"Unless you know a reasonable other option to what that was, I'm going with it really was a dragon," Cerise answered honestly.

"We should keep moving," he suggested. Cerise had to agree. "Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."

"Finally," she said as she approached him.

He pulled a knife out a sheath on his hip and cut the binds through the middle, limp rope falling to the ground as it came off of her wrists. Cerise flexed them a little, twirling them in circles and rolling her shoulders.

"There you go," he said.

"Thanks."

"Take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I'm going to see if I can find something for these burns," Hadvar explained as he moved away from her.

Cerise spotted a wooden chest on the far side of the room against one of the walls and made her way over to it, figuring that it was her best bet to find some armour. There wasn't much inside, just a full set of Imperial Light Armour and matching boots, as well as what looked to be an iron sword.

After picking up all the items out of the chest and depositing them on the chair next to it, she spotted something on the bottom of the chest. A key. If she had one bet, it would be that it was for the very keep she was now inside of. She grabbed that as well.

"You better get that armour on," Hadvar told her.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the armour on over the rags she was currently in, and left the pieces of cloth she'd had for shoes on the ground before slipping the boots on instead. She definitely felt better protected now that she had armour on.

"Give that sword a few swings, too," he said.

"I know how to use a sword, Hadvar. I'm not an infant," she replied, twirling the blade in her hand and slicing it through the air.

"Let's keep moving," he said, ignoring her, "that thing is still out there. Come on, this way."

Hadvar approached a wall and pulled a chain to open the gate into the next room. Cerise waited for the gate to rise entirely, then waited for Hadvar to take the lead.

They hadn't gone very far before the sounds of more voices reached their ears. They had to be getting close to the area of the keep that Ralof had entered. Cerise doubted it was him that she heard, but she had a sneaking suspicion it would be Stormcloaks.

"We need to get moving! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!" one of them said, the voice distinctly male.

"Just give me a minute…" the other replied, the voice distinctly female, "I'm out of breath…"

"Hear that?" Hadvar asked as they got closer, "Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them."

"I really don't think-" Cerise started, but Hadvar was once again, not listening.

He pulled on another chain on the wall, and the gate in front of them lowered. Cerise followed Hadvar inside. The two Stormcloaks inside were immediately on edge and reaching for their weapons.

"Hold on now, we only want to…" Hadvar started.

They drew their weapons and charged at Hadvar and Cerise.

"If you want to die, so be it," Hadvar told them, drawing his own weapon.

The female charged at Hadvar, while the male charged at Cerise. She quickly blocked his incoming attack, sliding her sword out from underneath his axe before bashing him in the nose with the hilt of her sword. He staggered back, surprised, and she took the opportunity to drive her sword directly through him.

"That's the end of that," Hadvar said, and when Cerise turned to look at him, she saw that he had killed his own attacker.

"Bet they really didn't expect that to go the way it did," Cerise commented.

"Let's see if I can get that door open," Hadvar said as he approached a gate on the other side of the room. He fiddled with the door a bit before pushing it open.

They took a left out of the room and went down a set of stairs. From there, they went right into another hallway and had barely turned the corner when the ceiling came down in front of them, sending debris in their way and an echo of a dragon's roar to their ears.

"Look out!" Hadvar yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her away, "damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy."

"That's one way to put it," Cerise agreed, "here, let's try this door."

She pushed open the door to her left, and more voices drifted to her ears.

"What are you doing? We need to get out of Helgen now!" the first cried.

"The Imperials have potions in here. We're going to need them," the other replied.

They entered the room and had only taken two steps when the two people inside came at them. They were both wearing a Stormcloak Cuirass, so that explained who they were fairly simply.

While one of them charged Hadvar, the other came at Cerise with his sword over his head. Cerise rolled her eyes and easily sidestepped, driving her sword through the Stormcloak's back as he passed her. That was too easy.

"An old storeroom," Hadvar explained, "see if you can find some potions. Might come in handy."

Cerise nodded and moved to look in the first barrel she came across. Inside were two potions of Minor Healing, one of Minor Stamina and one of Minor Magicka. She took them gladly. She spotted another Minor Healing Potion on the table against the wall near the door and took that as well.

"Done then? This way!" Hadvar told her, and she followed after him.

"You want one of these?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine," he told her.

They continued on for a little while before coming across another room. Cerise didn't know what it was, but Hadvar seemed to know immediately.

"A torture room. Gods, I wish we didn't need these…"

The entered the torture room to find the two workers fighting against two Stormcloaks. Cerise readied her sword to jump in and help, but both workers killed their opponents before she or Hadvar could help.

"You fellows happened along just in time. These boys seemed quite upset at how I'd been entertaining their comrades," the Torturer told them.

"Oh, I wonder why," Cerise questioned.

"Don't you even know what's going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen!" Hadvar exclaimed.

"A dragon? Please. Don't make up nonsense…" the Torturer scoffed, "although come to think of it, I did hear some odd noises coming from over there."

"Come with us," Hadvar said, "we need to get out of here."

"You have no authority over me, boy," the Torturer snapped.

"How stupid are you?" Cerise asked, stopping in her looting to give the old man an incredulous look.

"Didn't you hear me?" Hadvar said, "I said the keep is under attack!"

"Forget the old man," the Torturer's Assistant said, "I'll come with you."

Cerise grabbed an empty backpack and dropped her potions into it before slinging it over her shoulder. She went to follow after Hadvar before he stopped.

"Wait a second, looks like there's something in this cage," he said.

"Don't bother with that. Lost the key ages ago. Poor fellow screamed for weeks," the Torturer told them.

"See if you can get it open with some picks. We'll need everything we can get," Hadvar said to her.

"Sure, take all my things. Please," the Torturer grumbled.

"What, just because I'm a thief you think I can pick that lock?" Cerise asked Hadvar, offended.

"Well, can't you?" he asked.

"Of course I can, but that's not the point," she said, pulling a pick out her new bag and approaching the cage.

She couldn't see Hadvar's face, but she suspected that he was rolling his eyes at her. Cerise carefully inserted the pick into the lock and began fiddling around to get it open. It took her a few minutes, but eventually, there was a satisfyingclick,and the cage door swung open.

"Grab what you can and let's go," Hadvar told her.

Cerise stooped down and grabbed the couple of coins that were on the ground, as well as the spellbook and Magicka potion. She slipped it all into her bag and then followed after Hadvar once more.

"There's no way out that way, you know…" the Torturer taunted them, voice fading as they got further and further away.

"Alright, let's see if we can find a way out," Hadvar said, ignoring the Torturer.

"Let's see where this goes," Cerise agreed.


End file.
